


Scott Pilgrim vs. the Unspoken History

by amberswansong



Category: Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (2010)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-01
Updated: 2011-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-14 07:09:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amberswansong/pseuds/amberswansong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d thought it’d be really awkward when he and Wallace split up, because their apartment was <i>so</i> small, and they only had the one bed, and he certainly didn’t expect Wallace to turn celibate because he was living with his ex-boyfriend.  Somehow it wasn’t, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scott Pilgrim vs. the Unspoken History

**Author's Note:**

  * For [finesharp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/finesharp/gifts).



They didn’t talk about it. Nobody ever mentioned it, to the point where Scott sometimes thought maybe they didn’t know. That wasn’t possible, of course; everybody knew everything about everybody else, all the time. Nobody kept anything approaching a secret in their circle of friends. So they knew. They had to know! But nobody ever said anything. Maybe because it was so awkward. He’d thought it’d be really awkward when he and Wallace split up, because their apartment was _so_ small, and they only had the one bed, and he certainly didn’t expect Wallace to turn celibate because he was living with his ex-boyfriend. Somehow it wasn’t, though. Maybe because they’d successfully negotiated the treacherous straits between Romance and Friendship without smashing the boat of their relationship to smithereens. Maybe because Scott was a really heavy sleeper, so Wallace could drag his drunken hookups back to their studio and bang them right next to his head and he didn’t even roll over. Maybe because the sex hadn’t been that great, anyway.

It was almost sad, when he stopped to think about it, because moving out (into his Very Own Apartment! Shared with Somebody Special!) had been so _exciting_ , that just thinking about it had raised all his stats in Responsibility and Maturity. He hadn’t even had to come out to his parents; he just told them that he and Wallace were moving in together, and his mom had smiled and told him she was happy for him, and his dad had retreated, muttering, behind his paper. Of course, since he hadn’t come out, it meant he didn’t have to un-come-out when he ended up back with girls again, so that was easier for everybody. Girls were soft and they smelled good.

Wallace smelled good too, like aftershave and chocolate-chip cookies, but he wasn’t really soft. Except his lips. And the palms of his hands. It was different, but it was okay.  
But the exciting and the hopeful and the increased stats weren’t really much compared to the dreary little box they lived in, and the mind-numbing jobs he’d gotten fired from, and the feeling trapped to the point where he fled to practice or on long walks through the snow just to get out. They didn’t really survive first contact with the world, or more than six months with Wallace.  
It was two days after their six-month anniversary (Scott had made garlic bread and scraped all the loose change from his pockets and the bottoms of his bags and borrowed five bucks from his sister, who charged wicked interest, to buy the bottle of terrible wine) that Wallace shook his head and said it wasn’t working, and it was just such a _relief_ that Scott said, “Thank God!” instead of “Oh no!” and they both sort of laughed. “Wait,” he said then, “do I have to move out?” and Wallace said no, not yet. Maybe later.

So that was the end of it, and nobody said anything about it. Not even Stacey, who didn’t even demand her five bucks back.

It wasn’t until he was first crawling out of the black hole left by Envy, six weeks before he met Knives on a bus, that he realized that maybe they were just being nice to him after he and Wallace broke up, and the silence was because they were waiting for him to say something. Which, by that point, it was really way too late.

So he talked about Knives instead. Knives, and then Ramona, and then one April afternoon she looked over at him, pushing a grass-green strand of hair back from her face, and asked how long he and Wallace had dated.

“Six months,” he admitted.

“Bet you were a cute couple,” she said.

"Yeah, I think we were," he told her, and changed the subject.


End file.
